I’m not quite sure why I get depressed during the week before an international weekend.

Are you the same? I’m sure you are if you happen to be from South Africa or England.

It’s weird because in most other countries, the national team in action is a highlight during the season.

I’m not sure why my support of England has diminished over the past few years.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the major tournaments — the World Cup and the Euros — but I couldn’t give a s*** about the qualifiers generally, unless a huge fixture is thrown up.

Whacking Scotland 3-0 on Friday didn’t have me celebrating either.

It’s not like my club’s players aren’t representing and it ain’t just because I get bored of the style of football.

It just doesn’t mean that much to me anymore.

OK, in the instance of the two nations I’m loyal to, South Africa and England, the quality is shocking, but I still watched Chelsea when they were bad.

Think about the Welsh or the Icelanders at France 2016.

OK, their sides out-performed all expectations, but their fans were incredible, something like 1 in 10 of the entire Icelandic population were in France to support their boys.

Why have I lost it? Perhaps my cynical view of our modern world has something to do with my loss of appetite for international football?

We’ve been zombified, we spend hours on social media, we consume global TV and advertising, cities are dominated by multi-national brands and we’re magnetised to malls, slowly walking around in auto-pilot.

We are conditioned to need what is meant to be normal, brainless, content with what we know and how we live.

And on the forefront for me, the Premier League!

An incredible world, superbly evolved and sanitised by marketing geniuses from the gritty, tough old first division, where there was always the chance of mass disorder, broken legs and general lawlessness.

It’s a seamlessly-produced High Definition utopia which has us all mesmerised.

It’s all part of it, I know all the players and most people I know, know them too, we chat about it and feel comfortable in it and that’s good.

Fart

It’s like getting into bed with the Mrs in a 40-year marriage, you say good night, turn around, fart and go to sleep and its all OK.

I mean, why would I want to watch England play San Marino when all the gratification I need is wrapped up in my weekly dose of the Premier League?

Yep, I’m a walking contradiction, in the unenviable place of loving Chelsea, hating the Premier League, but wanting it every weekend.

Anyway, back to business and Manchester United host Arsenal at Old Trafford, another high stakes game and one that Jose Mourinho needs to make a real statement in.

Funnily enough, despite general consensus that United are streets behind the Gooners, I think Jose might just pull something out the bag!

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